Champion
by akuroxoka
Summary: A child of war, alone from the age of 10, Lyra has learned to fend for herself as she fights to become the first female pokémon champion. As Johto becomes more dangerous, she must accept the tutelage of an unlikely ally. Note: Age-boosted Lyra, based on but not 100% true to HG/SS, war theory worked in.
1. Chapter 1

1.

The first pokemon that Lyra had caught on her own had raised some eyebrows. Silver, especially, had taken it upon himself to mock her choice. She still remembered his condescending boasting that her sweet little sentret would never amount to anything, and that she was a fool to maintain a top position for the little furball on her team. She had named the pokemon Peakaboo after the curious markings on its face; its dark brown coloring split abruptly at the nose into a pristine egg white. For some reason, watching its face change color as it moved its head around had made her think of a game of peak-a-boo. Silver had withdrawn his condescention a few weeks later, when Peaka unequivocally laid waste to his entire team. Somewhere in its unimpressive little body, that thing had the heart of a warrior and all the strength of a tank.

_It was a good thing_, Lyra mused, seeing as how the little dash of fur, now evolved, was effectively the only thing standing between her and a monstrous, raging, fire-engine red gyarados. Lyra, clinging to her exhausted slowbro with one arm while frantically searching for a pokeball with the other, was stranded under pounding rain in the middle of the stormy Lake of Rage. Waves swarmed around her, on her, pushing her underwater with every rise. She was one ill-timed slip away from from being at their mercy completely. _At least it was raining_. Her furret shot in front of her, swiping at the gyarados' head to distract it. The red beast screamed in agitation, reeling backward, away from Lyra. Its eyes, red from fury, fixed on its little adversary. "Peaka! Use your thunder attack!" she attempted to scream, over the bounding roar of the gyarados and through the waves splashing into her mouth. The gyarados leapt out of the water, its mouth glowing as it prepared a hyperbeam. Just in time, Lyra threw her pokeball in the gyarados' direction. The hyperbeam struck its target, hard, as Peaka turned in the air and brought down a hammer of lightning directly on the gyarados' head. In that moment, the world went white, and silent.

_What the fu - _She must have tried to breathe. Her lungs burned as they filled with water. By the time she had consciously registered that she was submerged under the waves, Lyra was already kicking to the surface. Peaka was swimming toward her with a pokeball in its mouth. Her furret was visibly exhausted, but it had taken the hit. It always did. They came to the surface together, and the edges of her slowbro's eyes crinkled with relief. The gyarados was no where to be seen._Thank Arceus. _ "Fur…" The pokemon whimpered as it nudged the ball into her hand. "Bro…," Her slowbro, Totoro, added. Its eyes, always tired, were really starting to dim. Peaka rolled onto Totoro's tail, pain from the hyperbeam it had withstood still flickering in its eyes. Totoro fixed its face in as much determination as it could muster and started for the shore. Lyra sputtered. The air settled in her lungs and she leaned into Totoro, clutching the pokeball in one hand and steadying Peaka with the other. She was trying to calculate how long it would take her to get to the pokemon center. The waves had quieted, but the rain was still pounding. It wouldn't be safe to fly. "C-come on, Totoro," She coughed. "We're almost there now. We did it." "Slow…," came the dutiful reply, "Bro." She had such a loyal team. They had done so well. When Totoro finally pulled them to the shore, Lyra returned him to his pokeball, softly whispering her thanks. Peaka snorted and jumped on its hind legs. "Fur..?" It cocked its head. A mischievous glow was returning to Peaka's eyes. "You okay?" She asked. "Ret!" Despite its exhaustion, the message was clear. Peaka was going to be okay.

"That was impressive," came a man's voice. Lyra felt her spine bristle as she caught a glimpse of red in the corner of her peripheral vision. _Silver. Shit. _Her pokemon were in no shape to fight. It wasn't him, though. The adrenaline left her gut like a burst of electricity; She could feel it tingling in her fingertips. This specific redhead was no acquaintance of hers, though there was something vaguely familiar about him. He stood taller than Silver. His hair sprung up around his head like a flame and he had chosen to compliment his largely black attire with an elegant, elaborate blue cloak. With its stiff, high collar, it looked almost like a cape. Lyra frowned. A cape? Seriously?"Yeah," she replied coldly, observing the pokeballs latched onto the stranger's belt. "I guess it was." The man's eyes were fixed on the pokeball in her own hand. He must have known that the red gyarados was inside it. Lyra brought it up closer to him. "We've dealt with some angry pokemon before," She observed, "but nothing like that. I've never seen anything like that." She paused for a beat, observing his calm. In the pounding rain, in the face of so much destruction, he was too calm. Too interested. "Lyra," she offered with a slight frown. "Lance," the stranger extended his hand. She ignored it, squinting at him. "Lance. You wanna tell me what the hell is going on?"


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Lyra watched Lance's eyes, gauging his reaction to her abrupt question. A coldness clouded around the corner of his iris, a coldness that she was sure mirrored her own. She knew, in that moment, that his jaw had steeled, and a quick widening of her focus isolated his clenched muscles. Their expressions must have looked the same. The shadowed, precise connection elicited a bizarre understanding. He was dangerous, Lyra realized, but not a threat. It was only a moment, only a feeling, but the electricity buzzing on her fingertips had calmed. Lance looked away briefly, furrowing his brow. Lyra swallowed, waiting for his response.

"I'm not completely sure," it came. "I-I think… Something's happening to the magikarp in this lake. They're evolving too fast."

Lyra's frown deepened. "The gyarados."

"Yes," Lace responded emphatically. "Something about the way it evolved must have… Affected it." He paused, staring at Lyra once more. "Someone's doing this. I've been able to track a radio broadcast coming from Mahogany Town, and, well…" Lance's jaw clenched. "I think whoever's broadcasting it is trying to make these magikarp evolve."

"Who on earth would do that?" Lyra felt silly as soon as the question left her lips. People, she knew, were capable of all levels of stupidity and destruction. They had proven it time and time again… In fact, the last time anyone had treated pokémon so ruthlessly… Her heart clutched, an apprehensive mist falling on her brain. "Not them," She managed.

"No," Lance's eyes bulged as he spoke quickly. "I don't know who these people are. But I doubt they're military. It's too clandestine, too covert."

Lyra nodded slowly, but a knot had formed in her stomach that didn't leave. "Clandestine?"

Lance's focus on her had become unrelenting, but non confrontational. "Did you see the souvenir shop when you were in Mahogany Town?" He asked.

Lyra nodded.

"There's a broadcast tower, disguised as a tree. Whatever's going on, we should start there."

"We?"

"Uh. Um, well. You can fight." Lance rushed to explain, pursing his lips as he bought time to find words. Lyra decided to give him that time, thinking of the Gyarados that had just almost drowned her, of its infatigable rage. It didn't matter whose finger was on the button if that unchecked fury was released on the region. It just couldn't happen. "I… I'd like you to help me. Please. You understand." Lance continued. Lyra came back into the conversation, nodding. "I do," She replied. "Fine. I'll help you. We need to heal up," She gestured at Peaka. The oddly marked furret was up in its hind legs, staring intently at Lance. It wasn't threatened by him. "I can meet you at the souvenir shop."

"That's fine. Thank you."

Lyra nodded. She turned on her heel, her furret just behind her, in the direction of Mahogany town. "Wait!" came Lance's voice. Over her shoulder, Lyra saw him moving closer. "I, um. What's your name?"

"Lyra."

"It's nice to meet yo-" Lyra was already walking away, the gyarados resting on her mind. "I'll see you there." She heard behind her.

Lyra looked at Peaka as they walked. The furred met her gaze, tilting its head. "Fur.. ret?" "I don't know, Peaka," Lyra murmured. "Something bad is happening."

"Ret."

"I'm scared," she confessed.

"Ret!" the furret rubbed against Lyra's hand. Lyra smiled weakly, concern etched into the corners of her eyes.

"Are you ready to fight again?"

The furret's gaze steeled. It stared up into the rain, and growled deep in its throat.

* * *

_Thank you to everyone who's following this story! I've been revisiting pokémon on a nostalgia kick, and have in the process encountered my share of creepypasta and theories. I thought it would be interesting to incorporate some Shinto and pokémon war theory into a G/S retelling. I hope you all continue to enjoy it and please, let me know what you think! _

_-AxO_


	3. Chapter 3

3.

The more she thought about it, the more Lyra knew she had seen that spiky tuff of red hair before. She's couldn't quite place him, but Lance had triggered the misty remnants of some memory, long lost to the corners of her mind. _Where on earth… _She would have remembered had she met him recently, so it couldn't have been in Johto. _Kanto, maybe? _Her memories of Kanto were hazy at best, bursts of frozen emotions permutating in a nonlinear jumble of time. Placing him there would be hopeless. _Damn it_.

Lyra was curled up on a chair in the Mahogany Town Pokécenter, pretending to thumb through a magazine. She had been staring vacantly at the same conditioner ad for over half an hour. The model beaming up at her became more and more disfigured as Lyra absently twisted the page around with her thumb and forefinger. She hated waiting for her pokémon to be returned to her; this visit she was even more impatient than usual. She needed to place Lance. She needed to get back out there and figure out what was going on.

"Hey, Nurse Joy."

The pink-clad veterinarian looked up from her desk. "Yes?" Her voice was so… Soprano. It was fragile, like a little fluttering leaf. Very high. Very unimposing.

"Have you noticed anything weird around here? At the souvenir shop?"

"I've heard things, yes. Yesterday I was on my lunch break and I saw a man snooping around there. Very strange, red hair and a cape. He had a Dragonite with him."

"A Dragonite?" Lyra's eyebrows shot up. "It must be strong."

"Yes, he came in to heal his team. His pokémon were very strong."

"Well cared for?"

Nurse Joy nodded. "They were very loved," She affirmed. Lyra nodded. Something about her sincerity put Lyra at ease.

"How's the gyarados?"

"It's in terrible shape," came Joy's sad response. "I'm afraid whatever was done to it has hurt it, somehow. You said it may have evolved too soon?"

Lyra nodded.

"That would make sense," Nurse Joy continued. "It is in terrible pain. I'll look after it as best I can, Lyra."

"Thank you, Joy."

"Whoever did this is a monster," The look on the nurse's face was grim. "Lyra, I'm sorry if this is untrue, but I've heard that you were able to help during a bit of a crisis at the Slowpoke Well." Lyra raised her eyebrow. She was surprised news of that incident had traveled all the way to Mahogany. "I'm not usually one for gossip," Nurse Joy, misinterpreting the trainer's surprise for agitation, rushed to explain, "But my sister works at the Pokémon center in Azelea Town and she was the one who, um, who helped the slowpoke there. She said someone was cutting off their tails? It sounded quite horrific."

"It was," Lyra replied. She thought of the slowpoke in the well. Their tortured screams had been almost synesthesic, illuminating the darkness around them and chilling the very marrow of her bones. She had pulled her own Slowbro, Totoro, then a Slowpoke, from the pile of creatures about to undergo the barbaric surgical procedure. Totoro had been cowering in the darkness, trying to hide from the blood-drenched rock where self-proclaimed Team Rocket members had hacked off its friends' tails. _Slowpoketail_… _Wait._

"Oh my god, Joy." She jumped out of her chair. "There was a man here, in the street, he tried to sell me a RageCandyBar. That same man… Joy, it was the same man that was hocking Slowpoketails in Azelea. _Shit._"

The nurse frowned.

"The people responsible for harvesting those tails said they were members of Team Rocket. Joy, what if…"

Nurse Joy's eyebrows arched. "What if they're here?"

"Yes, exactly. I mean, I didn't take them seriously then. Red wiped out that organization, right?"

Joy nodded.

"I thought they were… I don't know… Sick little fanboys or something. But this, this looks legit." Lyra inhaled loudly. "Team Rocket really could be back."

Joy's forehead bunched up in concern. She shook her head, then looked sharply into Lyra's eyes. "Lyra, you have to stop them. Here… Your Pokémon should be ready to go." Joy ran behind her desk, ducking into the room where she rehabilitated the Pokémon. She came back with Peaka and four pokéballs in tow.

"They're fighting fit," Joy affirmed, her intense gaze betraying her concern. "Good luck, Lyra."

Lyra nodded. "Thanks, Joy." She fastened the pokéballs to her belt. Peaka ran behind her leg, purring.

* * *

As soon as Lyra stepped out of the Pokémon Center, she heard an enormous crash resounding from the direction of the souvenir shop. The souvenir shop was just adjacent to the center, and Lyra could tell immediately that something was wrong. The front door was flung ajar, a welcome mat crumpled alongside it like discarded paper. A man was shouting something inside. Blood started pounding in Lyra's ears and a fog settled over her brain. She felt a clutch in her chest, like a hand reaching in to still her heart, her body. It was a cold freeze, a spontaneous response to danger that Lyra had known since she was very young, and still couldn't completely shake.

She was helpless paralyzed, she knew, and so did Peaka. The furret nudged against her, growling. "Fur_ret_!" It barked impatiently, and Lyra sucked in air. She had, she realized, not been breathing. Her muscles were liberated by the heat of her breath; her finger twitched and soon she could feel a mountainous energy, a bubbling and profound force propelling her to _move_.

She was through the shop door before she had fully realized that she was walking.

"Dragonite, hyperbeam!" It was muted somehow, as if she were underwater.

A white explosion tore through the air in front of her. Lyra barely stopped herself from running headlong into it. In fact, it took her a few moments to register what she was seeing - the scene was immediately bizarre, but its horror became real more slowly. A Dragonite towered in the far corner of the room, Lance standing firmly beside it. The Pokémon's target was not an adversary's team member but an adversary himself - it was a man that had stood on the receiving end of that hyperbeam. The blast sent him hurling into the wall, which exploded into a mass of splintered wood, plaster and blood. The man lay atop the pile, collapsed. He wasn't moving, maybe dead.

"The _fucking hell_?!" Lyra heard her own voice as the words came crashing out, punching their way from her brain to her mouth even without her permission.

Lance looked at her.

"Lyra."

She stared at him.

"I didn't have a choice." His face was tense, but the darkness that had clouded his eyes seemed genuinely apologetic. For a moment, Lance seemed almost scared, perhaps more of what he had done than what she would think of him.

"T-Tea-" Lyra sucked in air. "Team Rocket?" She had intended a complete sentence, but could not seem to compose one.

Lance nodded. "This shop_ is_ where the signal's coming from."

"Ah ha."

"There should be an entrance somewhere here…" Lance turned his back to her. He started searching the back wall. Lyra reached forward, jumped perhaps, and grabbed his shoulder, pushing the red-haired dragon trainer back around to face her. "Wait." Her voice, finally coming under conscious control, was harder.

"This is Team Rocket?"

Lance pointed his head in the direction of the sales counter; A closer inspection revealed the presence of a salesman, glistening with sweat, glasses askew across his face, cowering beneath the desk. "He says they're Team Rocket."

Lyra looked at the salesman, then looked back at Lance. She nodded slowly as the salesman started to babble. She could make out words like "hideout" and "invincible" in the otherwise incoherent stream. It was them, then. They were back. Those _assholes._

Lance found what he was looking for - his finger brushed a small lever in the back wall and a large door, hidden in the floor, swung open.

"There it is," the dragon trainer remarked.

Lyra glared_. _

"Let's go."

* * *

There we go - The third chapter! Thank you for reading. I really appreciate it :) ~AxO


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